Second Thoughts by Cara Bertrand Page A

bordering campus. Carter knew them all like the back of his hand, but even after my summer of exploring them, I could still get lost. I did, however, easily know my way to the trail that led even farther off campus, into the cemetery where Carter’s parents were buried. Where Jill had tried to kill me, but I’d killed her instead.
    It was a good mile and a half from where I’d entered the woods to the Penroses’ grave, but I didn’t mind the walk. And I did walk, dropping the facade of my jog as soon as I was hidden in the trees. The fresh air and moving slow were good for me, helping me clear my head for what I planned to do next. Instead of dwell on Mark Penrose’s death while I walked, I thought about my roommate.
    I was confused about what was up with her. Amy was always so happy and solid, much like Carter. The two of them really had a shocking number of things in common; it was no wonder they made such good friends. But her behavior today—her embarrassment and skipping class, not to mention her suspicious inquisition the other day—was so out of character, I couldn’t help but be concerned.
    It definitely had something to do with Caleb, but as far as I could tell, he seemed perfectly normal. Something was going on, possibly only in Amy’s mind, and I determined I’d get to the bottom of it. Right after I figured out who killed my boyfriend’s father.
    I paused where the trail opened into the large St. Cecilia’s cemetery, with its acres of neat graves amidst manicured, park-like grounds. It was undeniably beautiful, in a melancholy way, and I was surprised how reluctant I was to enter. There was nothing sinister about the place, except for my memories. I fought the urge to turn and run, instead taking a deep breath and stepping out of the forest.
    It was sunny out and the grounds were lovely in the fall. I suddenly wished I’d brought flowers, but all I had were my own regrets. They would have to do. I picked my way over to the Penroses’ grave slowly. I’d only been once, but it wasn’t hard to find. I imagined I could find it blindfolded, it was so indelibly etched in my mind. Sometimes I swore I could still feel where it dug into my back as Jill had kicked me again and again.
    Their headstone was a smooth, pearlescent gray marble, simple and elegant. PENROSE was carved in the center, with BELOVED WIFE and
    B ELOVED HUSBAND the only other inscriptions below their names and the dates of their too-short lives. Geneviève Marie Gosselin was buried on the left. Markham Loughran on the right. I made a silent apology and sank to the ground on his side of the grave.
    I had no idea what to do, or even if this had a remote chance of working, but I had to try. I had no other plan. Without asking, I didn’t know of anything else in Carter’s apartment that would have a connection to his father’s death. So, I closed my eyes, put my hands to the ground, and opened my mind, praying my Diviner sense could reach the thread of Mark’s past.
    Nothing happened. Not even a tingle or a hint of dizziness. I moved my hands and tried again. I touched the headstone. I even laid down on the cool grass over the length of the grave. Nothing. Clearly, I was not close enough to Mark Penrose, and I certainly couldn’t get closer.
    With a resigned sigh, I got up. I touched the headstone again in a brief goodbye and started back to campus.
    A BOUT HALFWAY BACK to school, without warning, someone grabbed me around my waist. I was so surprised, I didn’t even scream.
    Finally—
-finally!
—my instincts kicked in and my years of martial arts classes paid off. I used my elbow and foot simultaneously, to break the hold, sending us off balance. But I was rusty, and the arms around my waist only loosened as we fell toward the ground.
    We hit with a thud and I tried to roll away. During the fall, the headphones pulled from my ears, and I thought I heard a